


leather jacket bisexuals

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Series: the wrong leather jacket [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, someone tell me whether or not this counts as a meet-cute, that was supposed to be the prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:39:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5959135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linda gets cheated on by a boy, so Iris takes her out for a night on the town--or, you know, at a bar strictly for ladies who are looking for other ladies.</p><p>Linda finds a cute girl to buy her drinks immediately--and Iris's random dance partner turns into a fabulous one night stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	leather jacket bisexuals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragdragdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragdragdragon/gifts).



> For the babe after my own heart, the one who looked at that one gifset of Candice Patton in a leather jacket and said "that's totally Lisa's"
> 
> Happy femslash february!

Iris West walks into CCPN on a Friday morning, sets her purse down at her desk, sits down, boots up her desktop. This takes, perhaps, a three minutes, maybe four, because the computers are still running Windows 7 (unlike her laptop, which starts up in a dreamy _matter of seconds_ ), and throughout the entirety of those three (or four) minutes, Linda Park remains slouched over her own desk, face buried in crossed arms, making a groaning sound so vaguely pathetic that Iris debates running out and buying her one of those lemon-filled powdered donuts she likes so much before approaching her.

 

But before she can decide, Linda turns her head to the side enough to be able to gaze mournfully over at Iris and mumbles, "I hate boys."

 

"Boys suck," Iris agrees, ignoring the glares she receives from Larry and Jim, two of Central's most annoying human beings (and her and Linda's desk-neighbors).

 

"We were only dating for a week and he managed to cheat on me," Linda says, as Iris rolls her chair out from behind her desk and scoots over to throw an arm around Linda. She squeezes Linda's shoulder sympathetically, drops her cheek onto Linda's—it's an awkward position, but it makes Linda giggle slightly when she prods her tongue against the inside of her cheek, poking Linda as well.

 

"Should I say 'told you he was a loser' or should I offer to go to the club with you tonight so you can drown your sorrows in fruity booze and techno music?" Iris muses, and she's barely gotten through the words when Linda contorts to be able to hug her fiercely about the middle.

 

"I know the perfect place!" Linda says, something like vicious delight in her voice, and Iris almost manages not to regret her offer.

 

***

 

"That," Iris says, gazing in awe at the front of the club Linda has drawn her to, "is the biggest rainbow I have ever seen."

 

"It's strictly for ladies looking for ladies," Linda says dreamily. "No boys allowed."

 

A smile spreads across Iris's face, and she turns her chin towards Linda, finally drags her eyes away. "No boys allowed," she repeats, and she just knows her eyes are sparkling with excitement.

 

Linda beams, threads their hands together. "Still regretting coming out with me?"

 

Iris sucks in her lip, struggles not to laugh. Carefully, she pulls Linda's hand up, pats the back of it with her free one. "Honey," she explains, "we were both out long before we met."

 

Linda shakes her head slowly, huffs. "You and Barry," she says, starting towards the club and dragging Iris along with her. "You make the same goddamn face when you think you're being clever, have you ever noticed that?"

 

"I'm normally more interested in the faces of the people I'm punishing than my own," Iris tells her, and Linda groans, long and loud.

 

"First round's on you, Wordplay," she warns. "And I don't drink cheap liquor."

 

"Well, hopefully after the first round, some cute girl will pick up the rest of your tab, then," Iris says, and Linda waves to the bouncer, calls her by name and winks lasciviously, and they get let right in.

 

Iris raises her eyebrow as they hand their jackets over to the rather bored looking girl at the coat check.

 

Linda shrugs, lets go of Iris's hands. "I come here a lot, although my dating track record doesn't reflect it." They pocket their tickets, stroll into the main portion of the club, and Linda places the back of her hand across her forehead dramatically, cries out, "Why are there no cute girls interested in having more than a few drinks with me? I'm a perfectly respectable, bisexual, gorgeous woman with a working knowledge of all of the major sports teams in the city!"

 

"All of them?" A woman asks, amused, and she's all long dark legs and toned muscles. Linda goes from overdramatic goofball to smoldering eyes in .03 seconds, and Iris smothers a grin behind one hand.

 

"I have a working knowledge of a whole lot more than that, too," Linda says, winks, and slides her arm through the woman's, guides her towards the bar. "Why don't you buy me a drink while we talk?"

 

Iris sucks in a breath, releases the huff of laughter she's been holding in, and turns her own gaze out to the dance floor. She wanders further into the club, skimming the crowd of bright colors and writhing bodies, and decides she'll work up a thirst, first—she grabs the arm of the first singular woman she sees, says "Dance with me!" without even looking at her face, and drags her out onto the floor.

 

"Well, if you insist," the woman says, silky, amused, more than willing to go with the flow. She's very graceful (and beautiful, when Iris turns to look at her), her dance moves as _actually good_ as Iris's are enthusiastic. "I'm Lisa," she says, halfway into the second song, when she presses in close and Iris feels a rush of heat that has nothing to do with the fast pace of the song.

 

"You can call me Iris," she returns, and she can feel Lisa's huff of laughter against her ear before they pull apart once more.

 

"You came alone?" Lisa asks, shouts really, the music too loud to talk normally when she's not invading Iris's personal space (in a much appreciated way).

 

"With a friend who is drowning the woes of an unpleasant breakup in booze bought for her by cute girls," Iris shouts back. "You?"

 

"With a friend who already found a cute girl to go home with." Lisa laughs, a bright flash of teeth, a flick of hair back over her shoulder. "Drinks after this one—" and the music begins to fade. "Ends?" she says, makes a slight face, laughs again.

 

Iris slips up to her, sets her hand delicately on Lisa's forearm, stretches up onto her toes so her lips brush Lisa's ear as she murmurs, "That sounds excellent." She drops back, smirks, saunters away towards the bar. (Spots Linda with a drink in each hand, a pleased flush on her cheeks, and a hand set not-quite-inappropriately high on her thigh.)

 

Lisa follows, runs a hand through her hair as Iris glances back, and there's something in her eye that tells Iris that she definitely has a place to sleep tonight, if she wants it.

 

(She does.)

 

***

 

"Oh my god." Lisa turns away, hand over her mouth as she laughs (a sound so much more loose and so much less sly now that she's drunk). "Your not-brother is an idiot."

 

Iris cackles, hooks a foot around Lisa's stool to abruptly drag her closer. (Lisa startles, laughs again, and her hand falls on Iris's thigh as she throws her head back, exposes the long line of her throat. Iris takes a nice big gulp of her drink.) "Your actual-brother is worse," she points out, leans forward as she prods at Lisa's shoulder—the following leaning back almost tips her off her stool, but she recovers with a bright laugh.

 

"I think you're drunk," Lisa tells her, a smile curling around her lips, and Iris purses her lips, narrows her eyes as she hums darkly.

 

"Now what gave you that idea?" she says.

 

Lisa blows out a breath, drops her chin into her hand. "I think _I'm_ drunk," she says, petulant.

 

Iris bursts out laughing, sets a hand on either side of Lisa's face as she drags her attention back, her chin up away from her palm. " _We_ are drunk," she confirms, ducks forward to plant a sloppy kiss somewhat more to the left than she'd intended.

 

"My place?" Lisa asks, licks at Iris's cheek in a way that makes Iris jerk back and squeal with disapproval (and sets Lisa laughing).

 

"Is it closer than mine?" Iris asks, slides her bum off of her stool and her hands off of Lisa's face.

 

Lisa giggles. "I have no idea!" She slips her hand into Iris's, leads their stumbling way to the coat check. "Mine's the leather one," she explains, quite seriously.

 

Iris buries her face in Lisa's shoulder as she laughs out, "Mine, too!"

 

***

 

Iris's head is pounding. She remembers ninety percent of the night before, things only getting fuzzy somewhere around the time she and Lisa had decided the best follow up to awesome sex was an entire gallon of ice cream and four AM reruns of _That 70's Show_.

 

She remembers, for example, that she'd purposefully set an alarm for nine AM, so that she would have enough time to get home and shower and change before her lunch with her dad—but of course, it's 11:30, and drunken Iris had set the alarm for nine PM instead.

 

Lisa's still completely conked out and also rather tall, but Iris scribbles her number in a notebook she finds in the top drawer of the night stand, finds a pair of probably-supposed-to-be-capris that stop more or less around her ankles, and steals a tank top. There's not much she can do about the way she smells, but she has just enough time to brush her teeth, straighten her hair as best she can, and grab her jacket before she's officially late. At least the restaurant she's meeting Joe at isn't far—she won't be late enough to make him worry, even if he misses the text she sends on her way out the door.

 

Iris is so busy worrying about whether Joe's going to realize something's up or if Lisa will get robbed in between Iris's leaving and her own waking that she gets three blocks away before she realizes.

 

She grabbed the wrong leather jacket.


End file.
